


Willingly Given

by willowwand



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark, Drama, Heroes to Villains, The Quidditch Pitch: Going Under
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-28
Updated: 2006-10-28
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowwand/pseuds/willowwand
Summary: Harry's best chance to defeat Voldemort may come at an awful price.Mostly gen, with a bit of R/Hr.





	Willingly Given

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for the Halloween Feast Challenge.  


* * *

"Wish we'd have gone to the feast," Ron grumbled, rubbing his stomach. "It was our last one, you know."

"Maybe you should have gone, then," Hermione snapped.

"Well, it would've been a lot better than sitting out in the cold all night with an empty stomach." 

Harry sighed and stoked the fire under a large cauldron, trying to ignore his best friends' bickering. After sundown, the three of them had come to the clearing just inside the Forbidden Forest where they'd first been introduced to Hagrid's thestrals. Hermione had a plan for how Harry could defeat Voldemort once they'd destroyed his Horcruxes, some ancient ritual she'd found in a book, but she'd revealed little more than it involved drinking a potion. After several hours of doing nothing but sitting and waiting, tempers were running a bit short. Ron and Hermione, who never missed an opportunity to have a go at each other, were in rare form tonight. 

Harry had hoped their squabbling would have stopped once they became a couple. While it hadn't, it had at least lost most of the accompanyinghostility and had taken on a light, teasing tone... but they still had their moments.

Hermione rummaged through the contents of her rucksack, pulled out a large bag, and thrust it into Ron's hands. "Here, enjoy!"

He pulled open the bag, a smile instantly crossing his face. "Pumpkin pasties! You're the best, Hermione." He grabbed a couple and passed the bag to Harry.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, taking out two and handing her back the bag. 

"Yes, well... I know it isn't a feast, but it's the best I could do given the circumstances."

"When's the potion going to be ready?" Harry asked.

"Soon," she replied. "We can't start the ritual until midnight. That's when we add in the last ingredients."

"Well, that's good to know," Ron said, through a mouthful of pasty. "Why have we been here since dusk, then?"

"I thought it would arouse too much suspicion if we'd tried to sneak off after the feast."

"Don't you think Ginny noticed we weren't there?" Ron asked.

Harry noticed Hermione's blush, even in the dim firelight. 

"I asked her to make up an excuse for us," she told Ron. "I told her that you and I... needed some time alone together." 

"What about Harry? If we were to... er, spend some time together, surely he wouldn't be there."

"By now Ginny's quite used to Harry sulking upstairs in his dormitory," she said, casting a pointed look in Harry's direction.

Harry scowled. 

"Great," Ron said bitterly. "I've missed out on a feast and a snog. This is shaping up to be a brilliant night. All we've done is sit here and listen to you tell barmy stories that Muggles tell on Halloween."

"They aren't barmy, they're just..."

Ron shot Harry a look and continued. "I dunno about you, mate, but there's something dodgy about a story with a poor bloke who just wants a snog and ends up hanging, dead, by his ankles. Meanwhile, his girlfriend is cowering in the car all night. Why didn't she just Apparate home? And what sort of git goes out to investigate a noise outside without having his wand out?"

Harry snorted.

"They're Muggles, Ron," Hermione argued. "It was a Muggle story. And we're not here for that. We're here to perform the ritual. It has to be performed during _Samhuinn."_

"Hang on, _Samhuinn?_ " asked Harry.

Hermione tutted. "Professor Binns spoke all about it in first year. It's the end of summer in the Celtic calendar. Halloween is said..." 

"All right, I didn't care the first time and I don't care now," Ron said. "Can we just get on with it?" "I suppose so," she sighed. "It's nearly midnight."  

Hermione pulled several items out of her bag: a couple of books, three silver goblets, and a short, silver knife. 

"What are you doing with that?" Ron said, gesturing to the knife. "I thought we chopped all the ingredients for that potion yesterday."

Hermione avoided his eyes, and continued to fidget with her bag. "We did. There's just one more... thing each of us have to add."

"We're not going to have to go find Crabbe and Goyle again, are we?" Ron joked.

"No, but it's, er... somewhat of the same thing," she admitted reluctantly.

Scowling, Ron's eyes flickered from the knife to Hermione. "Where did you find this ritual?"

"What?"

"In what book did you find this ritual?" Ron demanded.

"What does it matter?" Hermione asked, her eyes flashing in anger.

"Er, Hermione," Harry asked cautiously. "What exactly _do_ each of us have to add to this potion?"

She hesitated. "Blood, we have to add our blood."

For a moment, Ron and Harry just gaped at her.

"Hermione, only Dark Magic requires human blood in rituals," Ron said incredulously. "You know that."

"It's the only way," she argued. "I've looked through countless books and this is the only thing that will give Harry enough power to finish Voldemort."

Ron looked at her as though he'd never seen her before. "You're mental. This is Dark Magic. This... this is the type of magic You-Know-Who used to get his body back."

Harry felt a shiver run through his body. "Are you sure this is a good idea, Hermione?"

"We don't have a choice. I've looked at every possibility and this gives us the best chance. There's a sacrifice involved here, same as the one your mum sealed when she gave her life for you, Harry. That wasn't Dark Magic, was it? By our self-sacrifice, the spell isn't nearly as dark as what it was created for."

"What was it created for?" Harry asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.

Hermione looked down at her feet. "Letting of blood was seen as a way to weaken one's enemy. A witch or wizard would drink the blood in a potion, and the drinker's power would increase to the same degree as his or her enemy was weakened. It was often done in battle. A wizard would... would d-drain the blood of his...his enemy and..."

"Blimey, Hermione! We can't do this, it's..."

"...the only chance we have. The original spell called for taking blood by force, but we're giving it willingly. We're not doing it out of **amarulence** , jealousy or greed. We're doing it out of love, and if we all drink then, it should increase all of our strength threefold."

"Why do _we_ need to be more powerful?" Ron asked. "Harry's the one who has to finish You-Know-Who."

"We can put up stronger shield charms to protect Harry," Hermione said.

"You can't possibly think this is a good idea," Ron appealed to Harry.

Harry hesitated. He didn't like the idea of using Dark Arts, but if Hermione was sure that altering the spell made it different, then he trusted her. He was doing this just as much for them as he was for himself. Sirius, Dumbledore, his parents had all laid down their lives for him. He knew his best friends wouldn't bat an eye to do the same, and he wasn't about to let that happen. This plan had to work. He had to keep them safe.

"If it helps us to protect each other..." Harry said flatly, casting a look in Hermione's direction.

Ron's gaze flickered back to Hermione, and Harry saw the struggle going on within him. He knew Ron wanted nothing more than to protect Hermione, but he'd grown up in a family where this sort of magic was reviled. This ritual was definitely not rooted in anything good.

Ron sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair. "I just don't see why we can't..."

"Forget it, Ron. You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Hermione said shortly. "But I'm doing it."

"Fine! I'll do it," Ron shouted. "But only because I don't want anything to happen to you or Harry. But just know that using Dark Magic changes a person. It has consequences, and it doesn't matter if you _do_ have good intentions."

Ron crossed his arms and leaned against the nearest tree, glaring at Hermione. 

"Let's begin," she said. "We... need to add the blood. Er, who wants to go first?" 

Harry had begun to reach for the knife when Ron charged over and pulled it from Hermione's grasp. With a swift motion, he sliced the smooth surface of his palm. Raising his hand over the steaming cauldron, he allowed his blood to drip freely into the bubbling liquid. Then, he pulled back his hand and wrapped it in his shirt.

Harry noticed Hermione's face had grown very pale and her eyes had filled with tears.

"Here," she said in a choked whisper, holding out her hand. "I'll heal it."

Ron held his hand out, palm up revealing a deep, bleeding wound. Hermione looked as though she was going to cry as she, shaking like mad, tapped the gash with her wand. 

He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Harry before slinking his arms around Hermione's waist. He sighed resignedly. "I'm sorry. D'you want me to help you... you know, do it?" 

Hermione shook her head as she took the bloody knife from Ron and walked purposefully toward the cauldron. Harry noticed Ron turn away as she, still trembling, pressed the blade to her palm. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that Hermione had done it only when he heard her cry out. 

"Do you need me to perform a healing charm?" Ron asked. 

"No," Hermione said, sniffing. "I can do it."

Harry got to his feet. He walked toward Hermione, and took the blade from her.  As he approached the cauldron, gooseflesh raised on his arms. He recalled quite vividly the night Voldemort returned. Though this cauldron was a lot smaller than the one Wormtail had used that night, it still conjured up bad memories: Cedric lying dead on the hard ground, the circle of Death Eaters jeering at him, the shadowy echoes of his parents coming out of Voldemort's wand. 

Raising the blade above his hand, Harry heard Dumbledore's words ringing in his ears from the night they went to the cave, the night he died. 

_Your blood is worth more than mine._   

Harry took a deep breath and slashed the blade across his palm as Ron and Hermione had done. The stinging sensation caused his eyes to tear as he dripped the blood from his hand over the potion, which hissed and turned a **vivid** red. 

He turned around in time to see Ron tenderly placing a kiss to the center of Hermione's hand. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling guilty about breaking up what seemed to be a private moment.  

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "But what do we do now?"

"Now we need to complete the ritual," Hermione said, springing forward to heal Harry's hand. 

"Does it involve nudity?" Ron joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

She frowned but otherwise ignored Ron, and hurried over to the pile of things she had taken out of her rucksack. She flipped carefully through the brittle, age-worn pages of an ancient-looking book. 

"I need to recite this chant in Gaelic."

"What do Ron and I have to do?" Harry asked.

Hermione squinted at the instructions in the book. "One of you will need to burn some herbs in the fire underneath the cauldron while the other stirs the potion counterclockwise 77 times."

"Let's get on with it then," Ron said, with a sigh.

None of them spoke as they got into position. Hermione knelt in front of the cauldron with the book in front of her. Ron sat beside her and began to unroll a bag of various magical herbs that Harry didn't recognize. As Ron placed them into the fire, curling white smoke filled the air making Harry's eyes sting and tear up.

Harry stood beside the cauldron and waved his wand in a counterclockwise motion, counting the revolutions in his head. Meanwhile he heard Hermione chanting words he didn't understand in a near whisper. The wind was blowing colder now and Harry wasn't sure if he was shivering from that or from his nerves. Even the warmth of the fire seemed to have no effect.  The trees surrounding them rustled but otherwise there was no sound. No living beast seemed to be anywhere near them, and that was unnerving.

The potion turned a deep burgundy color and Hermione's whispered chanting was growing louder, seeming to combine with the sound of the wind until it felt that the very air around them was chanting as well.

"There," Hermione said nervously. "Now all we have left to do is drink."

She reached for the goblets she had sitting beside the cauldron and ladled the potion into them. Ron passed Harry a goblet. The potion smelled something like rotting meat and he resisted the urge to gag.

"All at once, then?" Harry said. "Like when we took the Polyjuice Potion in second year?"

"No," Ron said abruptly. "Let me go first. If something goes wrong..."

Hermione's face fell. "Are you saying I might have done something wrong?"

"No," Ron said. "But you said yourself the potion is altered. If something... happens, Harry shouldn't be the one to drink it."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear, her bottom lip trembling. "Well then, I should be the first to drink since I'm the one who made it."

"No," he said. "If something happened to you, Harry and I wouldn't know what to do. If something happens to me... you'll be here to figure it out."

Ron took a goblet from her reluctant hands. The look of sheer horror on Hermione's face belied the fact that this was entirely her idea. Harry couldn't blame her; the idea of the potion harming Ron brought to mind images of him choking on the floor of Slughorn's office.  

Ron took a deep draught of the potion and suddenly bent over coughing and gagging.  Harry's heart leapt into his throat.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed.

"I'm fine," he said, still coughing, his face magenta in color. "It's... just really disgusting. Worse than... Polyjuice."

"So... er, is it working?" Harry asked, feeling relieved.

Ron took a couple deep breaths and straightened up again. "Dunno. I feel weird though."

"Weird, how?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her forehead. 

"Well, my hands and feet are tingling a bit, like when I focus my energy to Apparate."

"We need to test it," Hermione said. "Harry curse Ron, and he'll throw up a Shield Charm to stop you."

Harry pulled out his wand. " _Furnunculus_."

" _Protego_."

Harry staggered backward as the shockwave from his blocked curse reverberated back toward him.  Ron's eyes widened. 

"It worked then," Hermione said.

Ron shifted uncomfortably and looked at his hands. "It still feels really weird. Maybe you shouldn't..."

"We're in this together," Hermione said, raising the goblet to her lips and drinking deeply.

Harry followed suit, bracing himself for the taste.  Even worse was the texture. It was thick and lumpy like the dregs of cold gravy Aunt Marge served him once when the Dursley's had been invited to her house for dinner. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself not to retch as he swallowed the entire dose of potion.

Suddenly, a sharp pain exploded along the scar on his forehead. It felt like electricity was coursing through his body. He fell to his knees and balled his hands into fists as the effects of the potion overcame him. There was a loud roar inside his head that blocked out all other thought. For a moment, all he saw was darkness, and then his mind was overcome by voices and images, reminding Harry of his disastrous Occlumency lessons with Snape.

_...You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head..._

_...There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it..._

Power.  

He _could_ be great. He was the only one who could defeat Voldemort and once he was destroyed... he would be greater than any wizard who had ever lived, more powerful than Voldemort ever was, more powerful than Dumbledore.

_Dumbledore._   

Then Harry felt something else inside him. It filled him up like phoenix song.

_It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities._   

Harry's heart twisted painfully and he knew he had to fight this. He would never be like Voldemort, a ruthless, cold-hearted murderer.   He was only doing this to protect Ron and Hermione, to protect Ginny, his friends, the ones he loved...  The roaring in his ears began to diminish and he heard Ron and Hermione calling to him as if from far away.

He opened his eyes and his friends' worried faces slowly came into focus. 

"Harry, are you all right?" 

Hermione was sobbing, and Ron looked very pale as they peered down at him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Harry said.

Sitting up, he rubbed the back of his head, which he apparently hit when he fell. He was drenched in sweat and began to shiver in the cold air. 

"We... shouldn't have...you could have..."

"I'm fine, Hermione." 

Ron pulled her into his arms as she convulsed into a fit of tears. He motioned at Harry that they should leave, and with a wave of his wand, Harry packed up Hermione's things. Ron Vanished the leftover potion while keeping his arm firmly around Hermione. Then they started back toward the castle.

"Sure you're all right, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, it was just..."

"You felt him, didn't you?" Hermione sniffed.

"Er..."

"You were clutching your scar."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He'd never told Ron and Hermione that he had almost been sorted into Slytherin. He hadn't told them about using the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange and Snape. Deep down he knew his best friends wouldn't think any less of him, but they were still things he'd prefer to keep to himself. This situation was no different. Harry knew if he told them what he'd felt after he had taken the potion that they would feel guilty for going through with it, Hermione especially.

"Yeah," Harry lied. "It was him. He must have felt the surge of magic in me. I think I've blocked him, though; I'm okay now."

Hermione stopped walking and looked closely at him.

"I swear, Hermione," he insisted. "Nothing new about Voldemort getting inside my head, is there?"

"You don't think he knows..." 

"How could he, Hermione," Ron said. "Harry's fine. He'd tell us if he wasn't, right mate?"

"Right."

Hermione nodded and the three of them continued their walk back to the castle. Harry's fingers were still tingling with energy. Briefly, he thought about what Ron had said about the consequences of using Dark Magic, and he shuddered at what might have happened if he hadn't been able to fight his urges. In the distance, Harry spotted Dumbledore's white tomb shimmering in the dim starlight and he felt a pang of guilt. Harry had been lucky this time. His heart had saved him yet again, and he silently prayed that the temptation would never arise again.


End file.
